


White Christmas

by WriteMirage



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas fic, Drarry, Enemies to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:47:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21927694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriteMirage/pseuds/WriteMirage
Summary: Harry was a winemaker. Draco was a cheesemonger. Could I make it any more obvious.Harry is a wine connoisseur and Draco owns a fromagerie on the same street. People are constantly coming to Harry to ask for him to match wine to Draco’s cheese selection, and it’s beginning to piss Harry off. As is a certain blonde who comes to Harry’s shop once a week to buy his favourite whiskey, which Harry may or may not make a special order of just to make sure he has it in stock. And the certain blonde may or may not have a fabulous arse.WARNING: if you don't like vivid descriptions of wine and cheese this fic is not for you ;P
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 10
Kudos: 105





	White Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first drarry fic, so any comments are appreciated! Hope you enjoy, and Merry Christmas!

“Potter.”  
“Malfoy.”  
They offered each other curt nods, Draco blatantly ignoring Ron in the corner as he neared the counter.  
“The usual?” Harry asked, all business as he reached under the counter for Draco’s favourite whiskey.  
“Yes. And- something else. I have a new cheese that’s come in. It’s very- pungent. I can’t quite decide what I want to go with it, and I was wondering if you would have any suggestions.”  
Harry chewed on his bottom lip, glancing around at his many shelves. His eyes finally fell on an newer vintage, a white.  
“This might do,” he said, finding a tasting glass and pouring before offering it to Draco. “It’s more subtle, slightly fruity which might cut through, but not too sweet.”  
Draco looked pensive, swirling the wine as he swallowed, Harry caught up in the movement of his throat. As Harry realised what he was doing he coughed, looking away to see Ron watching him intently.  
“It’s good. That could work. I don’t know whether I want this or something that would match it’s intensity for a certain- richness.”  
Harry nodded in response, bending down to search under the back of the counter. There was a bottle he’d been keeping for years, given to him as a gift from Minerva when he’d first opened his shop. He’d been too scared to open it at the time, but it supposedly had a rich, almost caramel feel on the tongue with an undertone of something sharp.  
Draco’s eyes widened as he took his first sip, nodding in earnest.  
“Yes. Yes to that. It’s perfect.”  
“Happy to be of service,” Harry said, beginning to wrap the bottles as Draco pushed money across the counter. “May I ask what the cheese is?”  
“It’s- somewhat unusual. As special order. You should come by and try it sometime.”  
Harry hummed noncommittally, knowing he would never step inside the cheese shop- or fromagerie, as Draco insisted on calling it. However, as the day went by he had more than one customer come by, asking for a wine to match a certain cheese. Harry always pushed to know what it was, but they were always evasive, avoiding his eyes as he grumbled about secrets. As he began to shut up shop Harry turned to Ron.  
“What on earth has Malfoy found? Sure- I sometimes get customers asking to match to his selections, but I’ve never had this many- all in one day! And none of them will tell me what it’s called.”  
“I heard one of them mention it,” Ron said, shrugging, more engrossed in tallying Harry’s earnings for the day. “Something like the Stinking Bishop. Very strange.”  
“What kind of a name is that?”  
“I dunno Harry. Maybe you should go find out.”  
“Ron- I am not going to Malfoy’s fromagerie,” he said, drawing the word out. “It’s pretentious.”  
“Harry, you own a shop that only sells expensive, curated wines.”  
“Ron.” Harry stared at him. “This is Malfoy we’re talking about. Everything he does is pretentious.”  
Ron grunted and muttered something under his breath, and Harry returned to shutting up shop.

***

“He’s insufferable,” Harry muttered, leaning across the counter to perform a cleaning charm, pushing his finger into his shirt sleeve to give it a second, utterly pointless wipe. “Bloody git.”  
“Harry, he just came in to buy a bottle. He didn’t even accept your free sample.”  
Harry seemed oblivious to Ron’s long-suffering gaze, turning his back to scour through the wine list he’d been studying before the interruption. The list had come in the post from a witch Harry had contact with in Sweden. She was a connoisseur, with the largest private collection of port on the Continent. The list detailed her most recent recommendations, and it had cost him no small fee to get his hands on it.  
“I didn’t offer him a free sample,” Harry said absently. He ignored Ron’s outraged gasp.  
“Harry! He’s a regular paying customer!”  
“And he’s a Slytherin Ron. One free sample and suddenly he’s emptied your shop.”  
“Harry, you’re completely bonkers mate. Next you’ll be telling me you think he’s plotting and it’ll be fifth year all over again.”  
Harry tapped his quill against his lip, looking pensive although his eyes stayed glued to the papers before him.  
“You know what Ron, you might be right.”  
Ron made a noise of disgust.  
“Bloody hell mate. You’ve got to get over this.”  
“Can’t change his nature,” Harry said, shrugging lightly. “A Slytherin is always a Slytherin.”  
“Right, and you’re that bravest person I know, of course. Harry Potter, the man who’s too brave to admit he has a crush on a Malfoy.”  
Harry jumped, whirling to face Ron so quickly he nearly took out the shelf of bottles behind him.  
“Excuse me?”  
“You heard me,” Ron said, taking a step towards him, finger outstretched and accusatory. “You. Malfoy. Crush.”  
Harry scoffed, though he could feel himself becoming a little lightheaded.  
“I do not have a crush on Draco Malfoy.”  
“Alright, so what do you find so interesting about his backside every time he leaves the shop?”  
Harry made an undignified noise, spluttering.  
“I do not stare at his arse!”  
“Blimey mate, you’ve got more wrackspurts than Luna.”  
“Ron-”  
“When you’ve stopped trying to deny it maybe we can have this conversation again mate,” Ron reached across the counter to clap Harry on the shoulder, causing him to startle. “I’m going home. Make sure you offer Draco a free sample next time.”  
As the doorbell chimed Harry was left with his mouth a little open, heart beating fast in his chest.  
“Draco?” he mouthed to himself, frowning as he said it. He tried again. “Draco? Since when has Ron called Malfoy Draco?”  
“That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” came a tired response from the door. Harry’s head snapped up, taking in Draco’s bedraggled figure. It seemed Draco had been just unlucky enough to catch a spot of rain, long coat dripping on Harry’s floorboards.  
“How did you get in?”  
“Through the door, like any normal person.”  
“But- the bell-”  
“You did seem very invested in your own thoughts,” Draco said, sighing as he ran a hand through his wet hair. “Have you seen my scarf? I seem to have left it somewhere, and I was only just here so-”  
“No,” Harry shook his head, casting a wandless, wordless drying charm on Draco that was rewarded with a grateful smile. “No scarf I’m afraid. Did the bell really ring? And I didn’t hear?”  
“Yes Harry,” Draco hesitated a moment, a strand of hair falling across his eyes. “You work too much,” he said in a rush, looking guilty immediately after he said it. Harry watched him, drumming his fingers on the counter.  
“So everyone says. What would you have me do?”  
Draco looked startled, eyes wide.  
“I mean- it’s not that I-” he swallowed, wringing his hands. Harry waited, watching him. “You could always join me. For a drink, I mean. Or just- you never come to my shop.”  
“You want to have a drink with me?”  
“Well- I-”  
“What would we talk about?”  
Draco looked affronted, his pale features infused deep red, right to the tips of his ears.  
“What, you think I can’t hold a conversation Potter? No need to insult me, I can take a hint.”  
Before Harry could speak the door slammed, and this time Harry didn’t miss the bell.

***

“Ron,” Harry began, polishing the bottles that made up the display behind the counter. “He didn’t come by the shop yesterday.”  
“Who?” Ron asked, eyes not leaving the paper he was reading, sat in his usual chair. When Harry didn’t respond Ron glanced up, rolling his eyes as realisation hit him. “Oh. Draco.”  
“He’s always comes in Wednesday. Do you think he’s okay? Not that I care,” Harry added in a rush. “Just- I don’t know whether he has anyone to-”  
“Harry, I’m sure he’s fine,” Ron said, turning back the newspaper. “Did you do something to offend him?”  
“No- of course not! What could I- oh,” Harry said, remembering their last conversation suddenly. “I didn’t think he would avoid me.”  
“Well, what did you do?”  
“I just- Ron so many people are still talking about that cheese. It’s been a week- can’t they shut up about it already?” Harry asked, swiftly changing the subject. Ron’s gaze was cool but he didn’t push it. “I need to find out what it is. Soon he might begin stealing my business.”  
“Harry, if anything he’s improving your business. The more people buy cheese the more people buy wine.”  
“Well- you never know,” Harry said, hiking his shoulders up defensively. “You should go and find out.”  
“What?”  
“You should go and get some for me,” Harry said, giving Ron his best smile and adding, “Please?”  
Ron stared at him, and then with an exasperated sigh stood up, folding the newspaper and smoothing his coat.  
“Fine. Fine, if it’ll get you to shut up about him for one minute- fine. Anything you wanted to say to him?”  
“No. What would I even say? No. You’re there as you, nothing to do with me,” Harry said, pushing Ron towards the door. “Thanks Ron, I owe you one.”  
“Oh, you have no idea mate. No idea.”

***

Ron stood in the doorway, a forced smile on his face as Draco look up at him. Draco’s immediate deadpan look was enough to tell Ron that Draco would figure out exactly what was going on, and he wouldn’t like it.  
“What are you doing in my shop?”  
The few customers turned to stare at Ron, and he fidgeted with the hem of his shirt.  
“Hello to you to,” he said, stepping further inside. “I wanted to buy some cheese.”  
“Ron,” Draco continued to watch him coolly, folding his arms across his chest. “You’ve always let me pick your cheese for you before. Have you decided you don’t trust me? Or are you having a game night without me for once? We all know you’ll never win, Hermione would beat you if I didn’t.”  
“Hey- I’ve won a few games in my time.”  
“One game, five years ago. 25th of September.”  
“Why do you know that?” Ron asked, anxiety almost forgotten.  
Draco’s face softened and he suddenly found something very interesting to stare at on the floor.  
“You told me Harry was going to come. He never showed, but I was- terrified.”  
“Terrified? Or excited?” Ron wiggled his eyebrows. Draco’s eyes snapped back up, gaze like daggers.  
“You’re the worst.”  
“But I’m not wrong.”  
“Shut up Weasley.” His eyes widened suddenly and Ron swore he could see the cogs turning in Draco’s brain. “Did he ask you to come here?”  
“What? No? Why would he do that?” Ron guffawed, throwing his hands up in an exaggerated manner.  
“No. No, no, no. If he wants to try the cheese he can come in here him fucking self,” Draco said firmly, coming round the counter to wave Ron out of the shop. “Get out Ronald,” he waved both hands at him wildly and Ron backed away, looking startled. “Shoo!”  
“Alright, alright,” Ron said, taking a moment to poke his head back round the door. “Harry and Draco sitting in a tree, K-I-”  
“Out!”

***

The doorbell rung and Draco glanced up to see one Harry Potter in his doorway, eyes slightly wild, windswept hair, scarf coming unwound.  
“Turn the closed sign please,” he said, voice calm although his heart was racing. He pushed his glasses up a little, counting the final few knuts and adding it to his tally. He put the quill aside, sliding off his glasses and staring down at a worn patch on his counter. “What brings you here Potter?”  
“Well,” Harry brushed the snow from his shoulders, slipping the scarf from his neck. Draco noticed absently that he had a few buttons undone, golden skin dotted with freckles even in the cold. “I’ve heard you have the best cheese in town.”  
“In the country, actually.”  
“Oh-ho, aren’t you fancy.”  
Draco could hear the ridicule in his voice.  
“I’m not going to undersell my produce Potter,” Draco sighed, reaching beneath the counter for his trusty bottle of whiskey. Harry watched closely as he poured two glasses out, and after Draco shotted one back he found Harry still watching his throat, mouth slightly parted. Draco slowly pushed the second glass across the counter. “Did you come in for something specific, or purely to insult me?”  
Harry swallowed loudly, the floorboards creaking as he reached for his glass. He didn’t take it all at once, having a small sip, and Draco caught him wince.  
“Not your cup of tea Potter? Shame.”  
“I never took you for a whiskey man myself.”  
“Always have been. Now, care to tell me why you’re here? Or shall we continue this charade? If so, I’ll be having another shot.”  
“I really just came in for some cheese.”  
“You came here- for cheese?”  
“This is a cheese shop, right?”  
“Right, right,” Draco said, turning away to his wall of cheese. He selected a couple, his favourite brie, a vintage cheddar, a rather interesting Swiss he’d had come in recently. “Anything particular?”  
“I’ve heard a lot about the- er- Stinking Bishop?”  
Draco paused.  
“You’ve heard about the Stinking Bishop? What have people been saying?”  
“Nothing really, just heard whisperings.”  
“Oh. I don’t think that’s one for tonight.”  
“What? But I came all the way here just to-”  
“Sorry Potter, who’s the expert here?” Draco asked, whirling around with an armful of cheese. He laid them out on the counter, pulling his wire from his pocket, wrapping the end around his hand as he cut the first square.  
“Fine, fine,” Harry sighed, settling himself on the counter, face scrunchy as he had another sip of whiskey. Draco thought about pushing him off.  
“I promise the whiskey goes down better the quicker you drink it. Here,” Draco was sure he hadn’t given his body permission to reach out, hand brushing Harry’s, and take his glass. He refilled the two glasses, pushing one back to Harry. “Cheers,” he said, clanking their glasses together and then shotting it back. Harry did the same, squinting rather obscenely a second later. “Better?”  
“No. No, not really.”  
“Not a whiskey man then.”  
“No. But- give me another.”  
Draco eyed him cautiously as he poured again.  
“You’re a strange man Potter.”  
“I know,” Harry said, an amused tilt to his lips.  
They shared the cheddar, another shot of whiskey beside it. And then the interesting Swiss, which Harry didn’t like, and he instantly followed it with another shot. By the time Draco was slicing the fifth cheese they’d both slipped into tipsy, and Draco had come round beside Harry, pushing his hip into the counter, close, close. As he cut the perfect square, he picked it up to examine it. Little flecks of white in the black, charcoal cheese, one side soaked in oil and peppered with dill.  
“What is it?” Harry asked, turning his glass about in his hand, his other awfully close to Draco’s, fingers pressing against each other. As Draco became aware of the contact he shivered, turning his attention to Harry’s watchful gaze.  
“Why don’t you try it, and then I’ll tell you,” he said, watching as Harry’s tongue slipped between his lips, gathering a stray drop of whiskey.  
“Okay.” Harry didn’t move, perfectly still, green eyes bright and playful. And Draco, reckless Draco, took that as a challenge.  
Draco leant forward slightly, feeling Harry’s breath on his wrist and then his hand as he reached forward, Harry’s mouth falling open, the cheese on his tongue, and then his lips against Draco’s fingers as he swallowed.  
For a moment, silence, and then Harry drew Draco’s index finger into his mouth, sucking gently. Draco let out a quiet ‘oh’ as Harry pulled off, the pop echoing in the quiet shop. Draco fell forward a little, hand dropping to Harry’s waist, clutching at the fabric, and then-  
“I have to go,” Harry said, pulling back so suddenly Draco lost his balance.  
“Go where?”  
“I just- I have to go.” He grabbed his scarf from the counter, nearly tripping in his haste. “I’ll, er- I’ll see you around. Thanks for the cheese!”  
And just like that, Harry Potter was gone from his shop, the tinkling bell sounding his leave. 

***

“What happened?”  
“We ate cheese,” Harry slurred a little, slumping against the table as he swirled his wine glass.  
“I don’t need to know that much about your sex life Harry,” Hermione said, and he could hear the sarcasm in her tone.  
“And I sucked him.”  
“Harry, I wasn’t suggesting you-”  
“His finger that is.”  
“Sorry, what?”  
“I sucked his finger,” Harry sat back suddenly, throwing back the last dregs of his wine and then moving to pour himself another.  
“Sorry, you’re telling me you went to Draco’s shop, he- what, did he feed you cheese? And then you sucked on his finger?”  
“That’s about the size of it,” Harry said, already feeling the red wine headache coming on. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d drunk so much alcohol, but he was too far gone to care at this point.  
“Harry, you are an absolute fucking idiot,”   
“Not in front of the kids!” that was definitely Ron’s voice, and Harry instantly wanted to shut off the call.  
“Is Ron listening?”  
“Yeah, I’m here Harry. And for the record I also think you’re pretty bloody stupid.”  
Harry groaned into his dining room table.  
“How much have you had to drink?” Hermione asked suddenly.  
“A bit,” Harry said, hiccoughing. He could hear Hermione sigh on the other side.  
“Stand back Harry, I’m coming over.”  
Without another word he heard the whoosh of the floo and someone was pushing at his forehead, Harry blinking as he was forced to look up.  
“This might feel strange,” Hermione sat beside him at the table, pulling out her wand.  
“What?”  
“Wait a second.”  
Hermione waved her wand and suddenly the fog around Harry’s brain cleared, and instead he was left with a roaring headache.  
“Hermione, what the fuck.”  
“You’ll thank me in the morning,” she said, putting her wand away. “I don’t think you really want to forget tonight.”  
“Hermione, I’m old enough to make my own decisions.”  
“Yeah, I don’t know who allowed that,” she said, eyeing him carefully. She sat forward a little, resting her hand on his knee. “Harry, what’s going on with you?”  
Harry leant back, pushing his hair out of his eyes roughly. He stared into the lightbulb overhead until his eyes began to water.  
“Er- well,” he began.  
“Harry,” Hermione said, quieter this time. “If you like him, really like him, you have to tell him. You know that, right?”  
“I know,” it came out in a whoosh of air. “I just- what if he doesn’t feel the same way?”  
“Well, what happened after you, er-” she paused a moment. “Sucked his finger?”  
“I think-” Harry blinked roughly. “I think he was going to kiss me.”  
“And you just left?” Hermione sounded outraged. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her.  
“Well, I was scared! He’s not just some bloke off the street, he’s Draco fucking Malfoy!”  
“And? Where’s all that Gryffindor bravery gone? He probably thinks you want nothing to do with him!”  
“I just-” he didn’t know what to do with his hands, folding them into a tight, nervous ball in his lap. “I know I’m into men, I’ve know for a while, I just-”  
“You’re nervous.”  
“Yes! I’ve never been with a man. And this isn’t just any man, it’s-”  
“Draco fucking Malfoy, yes I know,” Hermione gave him a crooked smile. “Draco fucking Malfoy who you’ve had the biggest crush on since we were kids.”  
“I have not!”  
Hermione gave him a pointed stare.  
“Fine, since Seventh Year.”  
More staring.  
“Fine, maybe the stalking in Fifth Year was a bit much.”  
More staring.  
“Okay, look, stop it okay? Yes, I’ve had a crush on Draco for a very long time. And yes, I’m fucking anxious about it.”  
Hermione gazed at him pensively, drumming her nails on the table.  
“You need to talk to him,” she said, and her tone brooked no argument. “Properly. Take him out somewhere, have dinner, get-”  
“You know I’m snowed under right now- it’s not like- I don’t exactly have time for dating. It’s Christmas! I’ve got so many orders I need to fill and multiple overseas business calls-”  
“Harry, you’ve been telling me the same story for years. You need to take some time for yourself and figure out what you actually want Harry. This isn’t healthy.”  
“Hermione, I can’t.” But his tone was softer this time.  
“Yes you can Harry. It will be good for you.”  
Harry ran a hand through his hair, feeling suddenly small and hopeless.  
“I’m fine.”  
“You’re not fine Harry,” Hermione said softly. “I better go, but promise me you’ll speak to him, okay?”  
He sat back, feeling the wooden chair press against the nobs of his spine uncomfortably.  
“Okay.”

***

Harry could feel Ron’s eyes on him as he wrapped Draco’s whiskey, his fingers shaking a little. When he finished Draco was avoiding looking at him, eyes towards the ground. Harry swallowed, holding the bottle so tight his knuckles turning white.  
“Would you like to come out for a drink with me sometime?”  
“When?” Draco’s head snapped up so quickly Harry took a step back.  
“Er- tomorrow?”  
“Tomorrow’s game night.”  
Harry turned to stare at Ron, who’s face was slowly turning red.  
“What?”  
“Er- game night,” Ron said, giving Draco an apologetic look which caused Harry to frown. “Draco’s on my team and-”  
“Sorry, what?”  
“We can’t afford to lose or Hermione will have me taking on all the chores for the next week.”  
“You- Draco-” Harry’s eyes flicked between them rapidly. “Game night?”  
“You were invited Harry. I invited you every week for the first three years, and then I just gave up.” Ron shrugged. “You seemed busy.”  
“Years?” Harry knew his voice was shrill but he couldn’t help it.  
“Well, Draco’s only been coming the past two years. He was friends with Luna see, and she invited him along so-”  
“Two years? Draco has been coming to your house regularly for two years. And you didn’t think this was important information for me to know.”  
“Harry, every time I mention Draco you freak out,” Ron said. “I didn’t exactly think you’d be thrilled mate.”  
“What do you mean he ‘freaks out’?” Draco said, turning his eyes on Ron, who offered another half-hearted shrug.  
“In case you hadn’t notice he’s always been a little funny around you. He’s pretty bloody oblivious, in case you hadn’t noticed.”  
“Ron!”  
“Sorry mate, but it had to be said.”  
Harry was breathing heavily, the bottle still clasped tightly in his hand. Letting out a long breath he slowly put it on the counter and pushed it across to Draco.  
“That’s on me,” he said, watching Draco’s wide-eyed expression. “For all the free samples I’ve never given you.”  
“I would never have let you give me a free sample Potter,” Draco said. “I’m not that kind of man.”  
“But you’ll give me free samples?”  
“I was expecting some form of repayment.” Draco’s lips tugged up in the corners as Harry felt the words go straight to his dick.  
“Well, I’ll be going then,” Ron said drily, reaching for his coat and scarf. “So, will you be coming to game night tomorrow then Harry?”  
Harry watched Draco a moment longer, seeing the mixture of anger and uncertainty in his eyes.  
“It’s a date.”

***

Harry couldn’t bring himself to knock.  
He was hovering outside Ron and Hermione’s second floor apartment. He’d been buzzed up, so Ron definitely knew he was there, but the longer he waited the more freaked out he became. Listening through the door he could hear laughter and the occasional chink of glasses. The oven door slammed and still he stayed outside, hands beginning to shake. Hermione had asked him to come a little late so he wouldn’t catch Draco in the doorway, and now Harry wished he hadn’t come at all. He wondered how long it would take before Ron came looking for him, or if they would all just forget they had another visitor. They were having the best time without him it sounded like, and they had been doing this, as Harry found out, for years. He would just be intruding.  
As Harry took a single step back from the door the handle turned and he saw Ron’s grinning face, laughing at something Hermione had just said. He took one look at Harry’s white features and frowned, stepping in to the hallway and closing the door behind him.  
“Everything alright mate?”  
“I-” Harry looked down at the bottle he’d bought with him, the paper bag almost tattered in his tight grip. “I bought wine?” it came out a question and Harry held the bottle out expectantly. If anything Ron’s frown only deepened.  
“Mate- what’s going on?”  
Harry swallowed and lowered the wine.  
“I might just go home. You all sound like you’re having a good time, and I don’t want to intrude.”  
“Harry- mate.” Suddenly Harry was enveloped in a hug and he sunk into it, wrapping his arms around Ron in return. “You’re always welcome here, you know that right? They’re all excited to see you. Except Draco, but really mate that’s your own fault.”  
Harry barked out a laugh.  
“Does he know I’m coming?”  
“Yes.”  
“And he hasn’t run away yet?”  
Ron pulled back to give Harry a stern look, holding him at arm’s length.  
“Unlike some people I know he is being very mature about this. Me and Hermione told him about your freak out-”  
“You told him!”  
“-and he understood. But you’ve still got to apologise mate. Did you bring anything for him?”  
“Bring something?”  
“Mate- don’t you know anything about dating? This is some 101 stuff. Why don’t you offer that bottle to him instead and I’ll send him out, and then-”  
“He wouldn’t like it,” Harry said quickly. Ron looked startled.  
“You know what he likes? Oh- of course you do. Fine, go back to the shop- actually, we’re both going.”  
“You’re going to babysit me now?”  
“Otherwise you’re going to chicken out. You were about to go home when I came out here, weren’t you?” Ron saw Harry’s mouth open in retaliation and cut him off, “Don’t lie to me mate. I know you.”  
Harry felt the fight run out of him, shoulders drooping, tired all of a sudden.  
“Alright. You can come.”  
“Actually,” Ron’s eyes had lit up, sparkling a little. “Give that bottle to me and I’ll send someone else out to you. Is it a white? Gah- I’m keen to crack this one open. You know me well Harry.”  
And then Ron was gone, leaving Harry alone in the hall again. The door was slightly ajar this time, and he heard Ron and Hermione speaking in a low whisper before he heard an acidic “What?” that sounded very Draco. Harry thought about running again, but before he could make a decision quick, determined footsteps came towards the door, and there was Draco, features screwed up to make him appear even more pointy than normal. Harry couldn’t help but stare.  
“Er-”  
“Potter. What do you want?”  
“What?”  
“Ron said you wanted to show me something. What is it?”  
“Er, well-”  
“We’re in the middle of a game. Couldn’t we do this inside?”  
Harry took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.  
“I’m afraid it’s back at my shop.”  
“What? You want to take me to your shop? Now?”  
“Yes,” Harry said, feeling more certain as he ploughed on. “It’s a new wine that’s come in. It’s very special- can’t be transported too far, you see. Doesn’t like- er- turbulence.”  
Draco folded his arms, white shirt pulling taught across his chest. He was silent, quirking his eyebrow, unimpressed. Harry swallowed, tugging at the cuff of one sleeve.  
“Please?”  
“You’re insane. Did you know that?”  
“So people tell me,” Harry said, a slight smile in his voice as Draco let out a soft sigh.  
“Fine. Fine Potter, take me to your fucking shop. If you don’t fulfil your promise though I’ll…” Draco waved a hand about, frustration crossing his face as he couldn’t decide how to finish the sentence. Harry was grinning now, and he took a step closer, enjoying drawing Draco’s attention to him.  
“You’ll what?”  
Draco huffed, running a hand through his hair, ruining his usually immaculate façade. Harry watched breathlessly as Draco stared up at him through his lashes. Before he could think Harry was taking another step forward, hand coming up, and then-  
Sudden realisation hit Harry like a tonne of bricks and his hand shot down, a breath leaving him violently. He started to stammer an apology when Draco spoke.  
“I’m not going to break Harry.”  
“Really?”  
“Oh my god,” Draco exploded, throwing his arms in the air. “Are you just trying to play with me? You really are a fucking-”  
“No, no,” Harry could feel his panic rising again and he grasped Draco by the shoulders. “No, I didn’t mean that- I just-” he breathed deeply as he saw Draco calm. “I’m really fucking bad at this.”  
“Do you speak to anyone outside of Ron?” Draco asked, a hint of amusement in his tone though his eyebrows were still drawn. Harry let his hands slide down Draco’s shoulders, settling his thumbs into the groove of his elbows, pressing gently. Draco let him.  
“Not- not really no.”  
“I have no idea why on earth I want to do this, but-” Draco reached up to cup Harry’s face and Harry found he couldn’t breathe. “May I kiss you?”  
Harry felt his stomach hit the floor. His chest had never been so tight as he gave a curt nod, and then Draco pulled gently at his chin, running his thumb along Harry’s bottom lip until his mouth fell open. Harry breathed deep as Draco smoothed along his stubble, curling his fingers in Harry’s unruly hair and drawing him in until their lips met.  
At first it was the soft press of their mouths, slowly, slowly becoming deeper, open-lipped kisses that left Harry breathless. Draco tugged at Harry’s hair, causing him to take a sharp breath, letting out a low moan as Draco’s teeth moved to pull at his earlobe. His breath was hot on Harry’s cheek as he spoke in his ear.  
“Take me home you fucking wanker.”  
Harry huffed a laugh as Draco bit down on the sensitive skin at the base of his neck, causing Harry to thrust his hips forward, catching against Draco’s growing erection.  
“Are you okay with apparating?” His voice came out low and raw.  
“Yes you bastard.” Draco had barely got the words out before they had arrived in Harry’s shop, Draco finding himself pressed up against the counter, the queasy feeling in Harry’s stomach barely settling before he was pushing at Draco’s thighs to lift him up onto the bench. Draco drew him in between his legs, heels pressing into Harry’s lower back, licking into Harry’s mouth.  
Harry reached for Draco’s buttons, nimble as he exposed more of Draco’s pale chest, leaving hot open-mouthed kisses in his wake. Draco’s fingers threaded through his hair, holding Harry’s head tight as his tongue met Draco’s nipple, the graze of teeth causing Draco’s eyes to fly open with a gasp.  
“Are we in your fucking shop?”  
“Er- yes?” Harry said, blinking rapidly in his lust-addled state, flicking a nail across Draco’s tortured nipple eliciting a full-body shiver.  
“I thought you were taking me home. As in, to the bedroom. Not to your place of work.”  
“Well-” Harry paused, pulling back slightly, a blush infusing his cheeks. “This is both. I live upstairs. It’s easier to apparate here because- well-”  
“The saviour of the wizarding world lives above his shop?” Draco stared at him, speechless. “Harry, do you do anything outside of work?”  
“Er- no, not really.”  
“Oh my god,” Draco said, hopping down off the counter and fighting the urge to pace. “And why can’t you apparate upstairs?”  
“I’m not exactly great at cleaning.”  
“I’m sorry- what? You’re telling me you’re a hoarder as well? You are Harry fucking Potter and you can’t even hire a fucking cleaner?”  
“Well I- I guess- I never thought-”  
“Harry, when was the last time you got fucked?”  
Harry let out a noise of distress, face growing redder by the moment.  
“I know I haven’t exactly made the best life choices, but there’s no need to tear me apart.”  
Harry watched as Draco took a deep breath, feeling more vulnerable than he could ever remember being. Here was the man he wanted, deeply, who he’d obsessed over for years, revealing the many flaws of Harry’s life.  
“Okay, okay,” Draco said, eyes soft as he stepped forward, taking both Harry’s hands in his. “I’m sorry. Now, will you take me to the bedroom? And also, please hire a cleaner.”  
The stairwell was littered with half-empty boxes of wine, and Harry threaded through them with the ease of someone who’d lived among them for too long, fingers wound through Draco’s. At the top of the stairwell Draco pulled Harry to him, shoving him against the wall with a fervent kiss that was all clashing teeth and tongue. Harry felt himself melt as Draco picked at his buttons one by one, hands warm against Harry’s chest. He shrugged the shirt from his shoulders, tugging at Draco’s shirt to help the process, and then pushing his fingers into Draco’s ribs, relishing the feeling of skin on skin.  
They made it to the bedroom, Harry pressing Draco into the mattress with soft kisses against his chest, his stomach, his inner thigh, Draco hands clenched tight in Harry’s hair. Harry rolled him over gently, Draco folding his knees underneath him. Draco’s face fell slack as Harry eased one finger into him, the other hand rubbing soothing circles on Draco’s lower-back. Draco let out a low groan as Harry slowly pumped his finger in and out, adding a second one as Draco pushed back into him. When Draco was wanton and moaning loudly Harry leant forward to press a kiss to Draco’s shoulder.  
“Are you ready?”  
“Fuck-” Draco’s voice was breathy and desperate. “Yes Harry. Please.”  
Harry removed his fingers, and hearing Draco’s high-pitched whine of protest pressed his-  
“Wait! This is wrong.” Draco had pulled himself forward, rolling onto his stomach to stare at Harry with stricken eyes. Harry felt a wave of anxiety washing over him.  
“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry Draco, are you okay? I should have been-”  
“No you idiot,” Draco said, tugging at Harry’s arms to pull him close, pressing kisses to Harry’s cheeks even as Harry continued to babble. “I want this to happen properly. I want to take you to dinner,” his voice dropped low, his hand sliding up Harry’s neck to pull his face closer. “I want to fucking worship you.”  
Harry let out a low whimper.  
“You mean- Are you sure- I didn’t-”  
Draco shushed him with a fierce kiss, his hand closing around Harry’s dick and giving it a slow pump.  
“No Harry,” Draco said softly, giving him another kiss, chaste and sweet as he worked Harry to completion. “Let me take care of you.”  
As they laid back against the pillows, sated and warm, Harry’s mind began to whir.  
“Should we go back?” Harry asked, resting his head on Draco’s chest, enjoying the feel of having Draco close to him.  
“Go back where?”  
“To Ron and Hermione’s?”  
“What? Fuck no. They’ll assume we’ve shagged and we’ll never hear the end of it.”  
“If we don’t turn up they’ll also assume we’ve shagged,” Harry said, grinning into Draco’s warm skin. “It’s a lose-lose situation.”  
“You don’t seem too upset by the idea,” Draco said, flicking at Harry’s hair gently.  
“Anyone would want to show off if they’d fucked you.”  
“Oh, is that all I’m good for? Arm-candy?”  
Harry chuckled.  
“Shove off Malfoy.”  
“That’s not what you were saying a minute ago.”  
Harry traced one of the scars on Draco’s chest with a gentle touch, feeling Draco shiver under him.  
“Do you want to stay here tonight?”  
Draco leant down to kiss the top of Harry’s head.  
“I should go home.”  
“Alright,” Harry said softly, already missing Draco’s warmth as he languidly stretched, beginning to pull on his clothes. “Sleep well Draco,” he said around a yawn. He almost missed the gentle smile Draco offered him as he tugged his shirt over his head.  
“Sleep well Harry.”

***

“Ron,” Harry said wildly, tugging at his hair as Ron entered his shop through the Floo. “You’re late.”  
“Late for what? I don’t work here. I just sit here to keep you entertained.”  
“Ron,” Harry said again, coming round the counter to grip Ron’s arms tightly. “Ron. He hasn’t said anything yet.”  
“Who?”  
“Draco.” Harry let go of Ron suddenly, letting his face fall into his hands as he slumped against the counter. “He hates me.”  
“Harry- Harry mate. He doesn’t hate you,” Ron said, sighing as his eyes came to rest on the bottle of red open. “Have you been drinking?”  
“No. Maybe,” Harry said, hands falling down to his sides, though he wouldn’t meet Ron’s gaze. “It’s been two weeks Ron. He hasn’t said anything.”  
“Maybe he’s waiting for you,” Ron said, shrugging. “I’m sure it’s nothing. He’s probably just busy.”  
“Do you think so?”  
Ron’s eyes feel on the abandoned pile of letters at the edge of the counter.  
“Have you looked through those?”  
“What?”  
“Your post. Have you gone through it?”  
“No,” Harry said, kicking the bench half-heartedly. “I couldn’t read it. I’ve been too distracted.”  
“Hmm,” Ron said, beginning to sift through the letters. When his eyes fell on the textured envelope he immediately knew, and he cursed Harry inwardly for being such an idiot. “Harry, I think you should open this.” Ron heard Harry mumbling behind him but ignored him, making a second small pile out of the first. Five letters. Five letters in fourteen days and Harry hadn’t opened any of them. “I think you should look at this.”  
“Ron-” Harry sighed but came to join him, staring blankly at the collection of matching envelopes that all just said ‘Harry’ in neat, cursive script. “What about them?”  
“Who do you think would use such expensive stationary? And who wouldn’t need your address, might work close enough that he could personally deliver them?”  
“Ron.” Harry said, but this time he sounded terrified. “No. I- surely he would send them via owl.”  
Ron shrugged.  
“The villagers have never done that, and you know he’s one for traditions.”  
“But- that means-”  
“Harry-” Ron took out his wand, muttering a sobering charm, and Harry let out a low groan.  
“Fuck.”  
“That’s about the size of it.”  
“Fuck,” Harry said again, trying to ignore his roaring headache, tearing the first one open. “Ron- fuck.”  
The first one was heartfelt, asking Harry out to dinner. The second was more tentative, uncertain, but still eager. The third one was angry. Harry thought he deserved that. The fourth one was short, to the point. The fifth one told Harry to never contact Draco again.  
“Ron-” Harry’s voice choked off, broken. Ron rubbed between his shoulder blades soothingly as Harry just concentrated on keeping his breathing steady. “What do I do?”  
“I guess you’ve got to tell him the truth,” Ron said, catching Harry’s eye with his steady gaze. “And make it up to him.”  
“Yeah,” Harry said slowly, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “Yeah.”  
“You are a Gryffindor, after all.”

***

The bell tinkled, and at first the usual shop chatter continued, but as people began to recognise it was Harry Potter in the doorway silence began to build. Harry’s eyes were on Draco, wrapping some cheese for a customer, hands deft and quick. As the quiet became unbearable he finally glanced up. Harry saw the moment of recognition, the cold entering Draco’s eyes, body frozen in shock.  
“Potter,” he spat, and Harry couldn’t remember his voice sounding so biting since they’d left Hogwarts.  
“Draco,” Harry said, bringing out the bottle from behind his back. It was wrapped in brown paper, completely unassuming, and Harry wished suddenly he’d brought something that looked more promising. “I brought you-”  
“Get out of my shop.”  
“Draco-”  
“Get. Out.” Draco was storming towards him, eyes flashing, finger outstretched. Harry started as Draco jabbed him sharply in the chest, crowding into his space. “Get out!”  
Harry stumbled backwards a little, catching himself on the doorframe.  
“Draco-”  
“What about ‘get out’ is so hard to understand Potter?” Draco was so close Harry could make out the stray eyelash on his cheek, feel Draco’s breath heavy on his lips.  
“Draco, please-” his voice was rough, throat dry. “I came to apologise. I brought you whiskey.” Harry attempted to push the bottle towards him but Draco didn’t move an inch, hands balled into fists at his side.  
“I thought I asked you to leave.”  
Harry swallowed heavily, eyes fluttering closed for a minute.  
“Draco, I came to apologise. I’ve been a complete arse. I wasn’t reading my mail, and I didn’t say anything because-” he sighed, avoiding Draco’s eyes. “I was nervous.”  
“The saviour was nervous?” There was still an edge to Draco’s voice but the tone was softer, and Harry pushed on.  
“Not very Gryffindor of me, I know,” Harry tried for a smile, meeting Draco’s eyes for a moment before looking away again. The inside of his mouth felt raw, and he breathed deeply through his nose.  
“Why were you nervous?”  
Harry let out a quick bite of laughter.  
“Because- because I want you. So, so badly Draco. I want to talk to you, be with you, kiss you, fuck you,” he was almost inaudible, voice rasping on the last words. “I want everything with you Draco.”  
Complete and utter silence. Harry wasn’t sure he was even breathing. And then- Draco was kissing him. It was full of teeth, bitting down on his lip, fingers tugging harshly at his hair. Harry was pushed to the wall, Draco so close Harry could feel his budding erection press against his thigh. When Draco rolled his hips gently, Harry’s head falling back against the wall, Draco’s mouth dropping to his neck, Harry knocked the bottle against Draco’s leg.  
“We have an audience, remember.” He was hoarse, lungs tight, but Harry didn’t remember a time he’d ever felt better in his life.  
Draco pulled back so quickly Harry sunk a little, knees giving way. Draco’s eyes were wide, hair wild, shirt loose about the neck. He turned suddenly, surveying the staring, startled patrons of his shop.  
“Er- we’re closed.”  
There was a murmur of discontent as customers began to file out one by one. An elderly lady raised her cane and shook it at them.  
“Youth these days, always thinking about sex. I thought this was a prime establishment. I will be telling my friends.”  
“It is a prime establishment,” Draco mumbled, following after the stragglers to shut the door, turning the sign to closed. Harry watched him breathe deeply, chest rising and falling with the movement. His tired eyes fell on Harry. “Explain.”  
“Explain what?” Harry said, allowing himself to sink all the way to the floor. He sat there, between two shelves filled with cheese, and watched Draco as he walked over, sitting a few feet from Harry, facing him.  
“Everything. Why did it take you so long? Harry-” Draco’s voice cracked and he looked down at his lap. “Harry I thought you would never speak to me again. Hermione tried to tell me, but I couldn’t believe her. Not when you’d just- left. I-“  
“Draco,” Harry said softly. He wished he could reach out, take Draco’s hands in his. “I didn’t come sooner because- I’ve been so anxious Draco. About everything. I kept buying things I thought you would like- I’ve got a little collection now- and then I would get ready to go out and I just couldn’t. I couldn’t make it through the door. I walked around the shop in circles, saying everything I wanted to say to you- Ron thought I was insane. It’s only because of him that I came- he found the letters. I read them and- well, I realised what an idiot I’d been.”  
Draco snorted.  
“You’re telling me I have Weasley to thank for this? God.” He leant back on his hands, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling, exposing the long column of his neck. It was entirely unblemished, skin pale as pale, and Harry wanted to ruin him. “Harry, what I really wanted to know was- why were you anxious? Is it me? Do I make you anxious?”  
“Yes.” Harry said, and it came out to quickly. He caught Draco tense, still refusing to look at him. “Not like that.” He paused, willing himself to be brave. “If it wasn’t already obvious, I’m crazy about you Draco.”  
Draco’s head snapped up, meeting Harry’s gaze intensely.  
“Really?”  
“Yes Draco,” Harry said, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he leant forward, shuffling towards him. Draco was too startled to move, eyes widening as Harry came close enough to take Draco’s hands in his. “I’d do anything for you.”  
“Anything?” Draco asked, eyes flashing dangerously.  
Harry’s grin was wider than it had ever been.  
“Anything.”

***

“Would you care to try some cheese Mr. Potter?”  
Harry laughed as Draco gazed at him expectantly from behind the counter.  
“And what would you have to give me?”  
“Wait here,” Draco said, slipping towards the back of the shop. Harry watched Draco disappear into the back room, returning a second later with a covered plate. Harry joined him at the counter, leaning his hip into it as he watched Draco remove the lid in a flourish. On the plate lay a rather unassuming round of cheese.  
“Is this just- normal cheese?” Harry said, a little miffed.  
“Not just any cheese,” Draco said, moving to cut a slice. As he did so the aroma hit Harry full force, making him cough after a sharp inhale. “This is the Stinking Bishop.”  
“I can see why,” Harry said, making a motion to hold his nose. Draco stopped him, holding his wrist firmly on the countertop. In the other hand he held the slice of cheese, and Harry eyed it warily. “You’re really going to make me eat that?”  
“Harry, you’ve been talking about it for weeks, as though you think I’m hiding some big secret from you. You might as well try it.”  
“But- it smells awful.”  
“Scared Potter?”   
“You wish.”  
And then Draco pushed the slice of cheese into Harry’s mouth. Harry started, shocked at how strongly it tasted, choking it down as quickly as possible before he had a sudden coughing fit. Harry didn’t need to look to know Draco was laughing at him, but as he straightened, his throat calming as he saw Draco’s wide grin.  
“You can see why I wasn’t going to let you try it the first time,” Draco said, cocking an eyebrow at him. He rested a finger under Harry’s chin, lifting his head so they were eye to eye. Harry swallowed, trying to rid the residual flavour from his mouth. And then Draco was kissing him, deeper this time, fingers coming to tangle in Harry’s hair, pulling him close.  
“Do you provide this service for all your customers?” Harry asked breathlessly between kisses.  
“Only you, Potter.”

***

Harry stood outside Ron and Hermione’s second floor apartment, shuffling anxiously despite the bubble of warmth in his chest. It was games night, and this time he wasn’t alone. Draco was beside him, fingers laced together, turning to press his lips to Harry’s temple.  
“You alright love?”  
“Yes, just-” Harry gave a half-hearted shrug. “This is new.”  
“What’s new? Us?”  
“Yes, but- people knowing. That’s new.”  
“I think ‘people’ have known longer than you give them credit for,” Draco said, giving him a long stare. “According to Hermione you have always been rather obvious.”  
“Oh, fuck off,” Harry said, offering a sharp elbow to his ribs. Draco grinned, reaching out to smooth Harry’s unruly hair, straightening his glasses. “It’s more- this feels-”  
“Like ours,” Draco offered, gaze soft.  
“Exactly.”  
“It’s still ours. This will always be ours.”  
Harry smiled, pulling at Draco’s hand until they were toe to toe. It was at that moment that Ron decided to open the door.  
“Well, I see I’m interrupting a private moment. Do you two save your liaisons specifically for this corridor? Come on in before I win another games night and you take home a weeping spouse,” Ron said, winking at Harry as they passed inside.  
“In your dreams Weasley.”  
“It’s on Malfoy.”  
The night passed slowly, Harry stretched out languidly on the couch, Draco’s head resting against his knees from where he sat on the floor, arguing with Ron over game pieces while Harry watched him, occasionally running his fingers through Draco’s hair. As people began to drift home Draco and Ron were still involved in a deep conversation about the rules of Wizard’s chess, and Hermione bought over two glasses of wine, nudging Harry with her elbow for him to make space. He sat up slightly, accepting the wine and taking a grateful swallow. He’d wanted to stay mostly sober tonight, but it was getting late and the wine was smooth on his tongue.  
“Are you happy?”  
Harry started at the question, turning wide eyes on her, feeling more awake than he had all evening. He swallowed, his gaze darting to the back of Draco’s head, seeing he’d quieted a little, and Harry wondered if he was listening. He looked back to Hermione, swirling the glass in his hand.  
“Yes.” He cleared his throat, suddenly dry. “Yes, I’m happy.”  
“Do you see now why I was so concerned? You’ve always worked so hard, and I just- I didn’t want you to miss out Harry.”  
“Miss out on what?”  
“This. Life. Him,” she said, giving Draco a significant look.  
“Oh.” Harry said, feeling suitably chastised. He shrugged, his skin prickling suddenly under her watchful gaze. “I guess- work was a good distraction. From everything.”  
“What constitutes everything?” she asked softly.  
“The war. Guilt. Loneliness,” he admitted, hand drifting to the back of Draco’s neck again, feeling him shiver at Harry’s touch. He was still talking to Ron, though there was less arguing now, and Harry smiled slightly. “And maybe the fact I had an overwhelming crush on a man I never thought would reciprocate my feelings.”  
“So you just buried it all with work.”  
“Yeah, I guess so.”  
“Harry, can you promise me something?” Hermione asked, and when he looked over he saw concern and hope mingling in her eyes.  
“I can try.”  
“Don’t do it again. I’m not asking you to talk to us about everything, but- talk to someone. Whether it’s a mind healer, us, or Draco- don’t bury it again.”  
Harry felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes and swallowed heavily around the lump that had formed in his throat.  
“I promise,” he said.  
Hermione took both their empty glass and placed them on the coffee table before embracing him in a tight hug. Quite without realising he had began to cry, silent tears falling on her hair, the smell of spice and wine and Christmas hanging about her.  
“We love you, you know,” Hermione said, sitting back slightly to offer him a tissue.  
“I know. I love you both too.”  
A little later he was stood by the door having said his goodbyes to Ron and Hermione, watching nervously as Hermione whispered something in Draco’s ear. Draco grinned wickedly, flashing Harry a quick look that sent warmth straight to the pit of his stomach.  
“I will,” Draco said, just loud enough for Harry to hear as he gave Hermione a wink. As soon as they were outside in the cold, about to apparate, Harry asked Draco what she’d said. “Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about.”  
“Excuse me?”  
Draco smiled at him, a little mischievous, a little sweet.  
“She just said I should make sure you really enjoy your Christmas,” he said, reaching round Harry to squeeze his arse, pulling them tightly against each other.  
“Oh.” Harry said simply, the breath leaving him. “And? Are you going to?”  
“As if I would miss the opportunity,” Draco said, leaning in to steal a deliciously warm kiss as the first snowflakes began to fall. “Harry-” he whispered against the other man’s lips, their breaths mingling in the cool air. “Harry it’s snowing.”  
Harry grinned, pressing another soft kiss to Draco’s lips.  
“We’ll have our first White Christmas.”  
Draco’s answering smile was just as bright, eyes shining, reflecting the streetlamps.  
“Here’s to many more.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thankyou for reading! <3


End file.
